girl, in the course of the scandalous deceptions practised upon her, after being persuaded to accept a refuge in the palace, gave full credit to his assertions that his rank and fortune were such as to preclude all possibility of refusal on the part of her relations, when he should present himself to claim the hand of his affianced wife. How could she disbelieve him? His deportment was so noble,his eloquence so convincing,—his manner so graceful! He was the only man from whose lips she had heard avowals of admiration, professions of love; and even now, amid all her humiliations, (and the discredit thrown upon her assertions of having escaped from the palace, on discovering that attempts were made to detain her a prisoner,) those professions and those graceful gestures dwelt upon her memory as endowed with only too dangerous a charm. She felt that she could love that audacious stranger. Morning, noon, and night she prayed upon her bended knees that he might fulfil his pledges, and appear to claim her as his own, so as to prevent her being forced into a hateful marriage, to the injury of an honourable

man.

Certain, from their former conversation, that he for whose crime she was making atonement was well acquainted with her abode, and might have learned at Moret her removal from the convent, she persuaded herself day after day that her penance was about to end,that he would come,-that the preparations for her marriage with Alexis Duval would be discontinued,-that happiness was still in store for her. But every night she laid down her aching head upon a sleepless pillow !-no token of his arrival!—no change in her destinies!

Madame de Montméry had nothing further to apprehend from the introduction of the poor girl into her coterie. Cette belle Esther' was wasting to a shadow. Not a tinge of colour on her cheek,—not a spark of animation in her downcast eyes. To crown all, the preliminaries of peace were signed, and it was expected that a few weeks' time would bring back the French armies from Germany, and the Marchioness actually shuddered as she anticipated the arrival of her brother.

Expect not a day's delay after the appointed period,' said she to her suffering niece. 'Alexis Duval is already arrived in Paris. The writings are preparing-you will find that I have supplied a handsome dowry and noble trousseau. I have neglected nothing to secure the happiness of her who has so ill repaid my former bounties.'

Sometimes poor Hester persuaded herself that her unknown lover, not daring to present himself to Madame de Montméry, might be wandering in the vicinity of the Hôtel, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the object of his attachment. Her allotted chamber overlooked the court-yard; she had no means of obtaining a view of the place, Aware, however, that every day at a certain hour Madame de Montmory quitted the Hôtel to exhibit herself and her sumptuous equipage on the Cours la Reine, she watched one morning till the coach and six rolled out of the porte cochère, and the household servants retreated to the offices; then, stealing from her retreat, made her way to those gorgeous saloons which she never considered without awe, as the habitation of her heartless kinswoman. With a stealthy step she traversed the gaudy chambers, across whose windows were

drawn heavy draperies of crimson brocade, embellished with fringes of golden bullion. But the fresh air from without reached her as she approached the boudoir which terminated the suite. That window at least must be open. The termination of all her sorrows was perhaps at hand!-and, with the sanguine impetuosity of youth, the heart of the poor invalid beat almost to bursting when she reflected that she might be on the eve of beholding him whose features were indelibly impressed upon her memory,-upon her affections. He, at least, would not despise her-he, at least, must still treat her with gentleness and respect.

A

At that moment a strain of music reached her from without. military band was striking up in the Place, as if to honour the arrival of some royal personage. With a panting bosom, regardless of the strange figure she must present with her dishevelled hair and long white wrapper, Hester approached the open window. A brilliant procession was indeed passing the King in person, followed by his whole état major, proceeding to pass in review his royal guard upon the esplanade of the Hôtel des Invalides.

Amid the tumultuous clash of cymbals and braying of trumpets that celebrated the royal progress, the crowd assembled in the Place fancied they heard a piercing shriek. And it might be so; for the royal personage whose uncovered head was so affably declined to the salutations of the multitude was no other than the lawless libertine of Fontainbleau: and the fair wasted corpse which, on the return of Madame de Montméry from her drive, was found extended cold across the sill of the fatal window, was that of the predestined niece of Gerard Darley!

Fortunately for the Marchioness, her brother was not fated to return alive to France to work out his threat of retribution. It was considered a singular circumstance, however, that from the period in question to the day of her death she never again set foot in her hotel in the Place Vendôme. Many people conceived that her precipitate retreat to her estates in Languedoc was produced by the refusal of the King to sign her contract of marriage with the Comte de Hainvilier, a member of the royal household. But the publication of the archives of police at the Revolution proved that Madame de Montméry had been escorted thither under surveillance, by virtue of a lettre de cachet. She was never suffered to reappear at court,— Louis XV. being desirous to usurp to himself the monopoly of heartlessness and crime, as well as to secure the secret of his disgraceful

excesses.

Such was the history of the fatal window, to which a superstitious charm was long attached by the after possessors of the Hôtel Montméry. The demolition of this strange memento of the vices of the olden time occurred within the last few months, in the course of the improvement achieved in the house by its new proprietress, the Baroness de Feuchères.

KING JOHN

A LEGEND OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

In the year A.D. 1215, the inhabitants of the few cottages that were at that time scattered along the banks of Whippingham Creek, were thrown into a state of great alarm by the arrival of four large vessels. Most of them fled away, and those that were unable to escape were still more dismayed to hear the chiefs of these intruders and their armed followers conversing together in a foreign language. They made no doubt but that it was another invasion of the Danes, for which they knew the island to be altogether unprepared, as they had been free from their inroads ever since the Conquest.

The Danes, whenever they came, burnt and destroyed whatever they found. The present visiters, however, acted differently. Instead of destroying anything, after turning the inhabitants out, they took possession of the cottages, and set to work to make them as comfortable as they could for their own residence; keeping, however, a few of the natives to slave for them in fetching wood and water, under the threat of the utter destruction of their property when they went away.

The strangers, however, did not appear to have the slightest intention of leaving their present quarters again, but seemed to be preparing to make it their permanent abode; for all that evening men were employed disembarking deer's hides and costly furs, broad pieces of woollen cloth, cooking vessels of all kinds, huge piles of dried venison and hams, together with a number of casks of wine. They were also surprised to see disembark a quantity of most costly armour, such as only the nobility or the most wealthy knights were able to afford. One of the poor fishermen, who had been thus unceremoniously dispossessed of his dwelling, ventured to hint to the person who seemed the chief of the strangers, and was almost the only one that appeared to be English, that if they intended to make a long stay in the island, there were many fairer and more convenient houses to which he would be happy to conduct them.

'Ha!' said the chief, with an air of offended dignity. 'Let me give you this advice,-keep your prattling tongue quiet, and take no notice of what you see or hear, or'-finishing his sentence by signs, putting his forefinger and thumb round his neck, and then pointing up to a large bough of an oak tree that was spreading over their heads. 'And now it strikes me,' he continued, that it would not be amiss just to hang one churl at starting; it would make the remainder more respectful and attentive. Here, De Mark, send Gigo here with half a dozen of his men and a halter.

When they had come, he made a sign with his finger, and in an instant one end of the rope was thrown over the bough of the tree, and the other tied in a running noose round the poor fisherman's neck. 'Shall we lift him?' said Gigo, turning to his master to see whether he had changed his mind.

'Lift away,' said the chief, looking on with listless indifference. Gigo's assistants quickly hauled upon the loose end of the rope, and the unfortunate man was soon swinging in the air. He struggled

hard, clasping the rope above his head with both his hands, which they had not thought worth the trouble of tying behind him.

"He is a long time dying, my lord. Shall I lower him a little, and take a pull at his legs?'

No, no; let him enjoy the liberty of kicking as long as he likes.' His struggles presently got less strong, and he turned black in the face. You may lower him down now, Gigo, and throw the carcass away.'

'He is hardly dead yet, my Lord. Your Grace must not blame me if he should recover.'

'Oh, for the matter of that, I do not care if he does. I only did it for a joke. But here comes the Templar. Well, Anner, what news from Hugh de Boves?'

May it please your Grace, I had letters from him five days since; but I had some difficulty in tracing your Grace's movements. Í sought you at the castle; but old De Vernon said that he had received no tidings of you. I think, nevertheless, that he is aware of your arrival here; for, upon being questioned, he acknowledged that he had heard of the arrival of certain strangers in the island.'

'It was De Malleone's advice,' replied the chief, 'that we should not trust our royal self within the walls of Carisbrook. De Vernon is ill affected towards us. His castle is strong, and rebellion walks abroad in the noonday.'

Thus spoke King John, for the chief was none other; and De Malleone added,

Although De Vernon's grandson is a hostage at Windsor, still, as the welfare of the realm hangs upon our Sovereign's life, we would not that anything should be unnecessarily risked."

Not all the hypocrisy of the Templar and respect for the royal presence could prevent a slight curl of contempt from being visible on his upper lip.

The King, however, marked it not, but asked, 'What were the tidings from Hugh de Boves?'

'He writes, that when he showed your signet, vast numbers flocked to his standard from Poictou, Gascony, Louvain, Brabant, and Flanders, and that in a week or two at the latest he will sail for Dover with a powerful host. The time will shortly come when the Barons will be able no longer to boast that they made their King a cipher, the sovereign of no dominions, and a slave to his subjects. But Grace is ill accommodated here. Shall I summon De Veryour non into the royal presence, and tax the Isle of Wight to support its royal guest in a befitting manner?'

That would be rash, Sir Templar,' said de Malleone. 'Should our presence here make much stir, we might draw the Runnemede Barons upon us before our scheme is ripe. If De Vernon suspects who the strangers are that have sought refuge in his island, he must be kept silent by threats of vengeance.'

Ah,' said the King's jester, who stood by, 'tell him the joke we played off upon one of his retainers for unnecessarily putting in his word.'

'Peace, fool!' said the King, perhaps a little ashamed of what he had done. Sir Templar, I will intrust you with an embassy to De Vernon. Go and hint to him about the advantages of secrecy in all affairs connected with the King. Speak of those here as friends of the

King. The King himself, mind you, is still at Windsor. On no account give him the slightest cause to suspect that he is any nearer him than that.'

'I will execute your Grace's order,' said the Templar; and if it is your pleasure to let me take twenty of your men with me, I will surprise his castle, and put it out of his power to tell tales to any one.'

Act as I direct you, Sir Anner. It is absolutely necessary to the success of our future expedition that our residence here should not be noised abroad. Our sojourn here must be quiet, and perfectly peaceful.'

May it please your Grace,' replied the Templar, 'I am sorely puzzled to guess where we are to raise our supplies from, if the royal authority is altogether to be hidden in its scabbard. You would hardly like to hear of your caterers paying toll to the Earl of the Isle of Wight for leave to purchase bacon and long-cail in his market of Carisbrook.'

'No, no,' said a number of voices together; 'that cannot be.'

'It will never do,' said Philip de Mark, 'for the King of England, like a greasy burgher, to send his servants to market to buy salt beef and greens. I see a way to raise our supplies by the King's authority, without betraying his presence in the island. Let us not prey close round home like a mangy wolf; but get into our ships occasionally, and go out to sea and rummage the cargoes of the wealthy merchants, as they sail backwards and forwards to Southampton.'

'Well contrived, De Mark. You are our best counsellor when we get into difficulties,' said the King.

Day after day the King and his attendants spent their time in feasting and drinking deep. Their only other occupation was walking along the sea shore, throwing stones into the water, or practising with their cross-bows at the gulls. Day after day passed, and still no farther intelligence from Hugh de Boves. They did not dare to go much inland, or move far from the secluded spot in which they had established themselves, for fear of exciting attention, and making their residence known; for should the English Barons discover the villainous scheme of their King, who was preparing to invade and lay waste his own kingdom of England with an army of foreign mercenaries, his life would not have been safe.

The King himself would probably have submitted to the conditions of the Magna Charta, had it not been expressly stipulated in it that he should dismiss his Flemish knights, with whom he constantly surrounded his person. One of the clauses went so far as to banish by name several knights, most of them Flemings, who were his chief favourites and counsellors. These were the persons with whom we find him attended in the Isle of Wight. They urged him on to stir up a war against the Barons, by constantly holding up before his eyes the degradation that he had undergone at Runnemede.

'Do not suffer yourself,' said they, 'to be trampled under foot by your own subjects, and to be made a thing of naught, and a jest in your own kingdom.'

Urged on by these taunts, he had intrusted Hugh de Boves and others to collect an army on the Continent for the invasion of England. They were directed not only to bring with them an army, but any number of women and children, to people the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, which he intended to lay waste. He had sent also to